


Mercy Detached From Justice Grows Unmerciful

by Ngrey651



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Child Abuse, Courtroom Drama, Handplates, Implied/Referenced Torture, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Philosophy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-01-25 06:56:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12525608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ngrey651/pseuds/Ngrey651
Summary: Dr. W.D Gaster finds himself not merely dead, but in Heaven, and ready to be judged. His entire life will be put on trial, and must contend with his many...MANY Sins.  And only one person can defend him before the Heavenly Host...a child, one of the Six Fallen Humans, a member of a species Gaster despises. Can he overcome his bigotry and hatred? Or has he simply gone too far to be forgiven? Does he even WANT to be forgiven? Inspired by the "Handplates" AU of Zarla on Tumblr.





	1. In His Infinite Wisdom...

He remembered every single moment, every tiny little second of his last minute on Earth. He’d been smoking on the rather flimsy guardrail that overlooked the CORE, one of his greatest works. The smoke from his cigarette had drifted lazily up from his cigarette as the deep, sultry, intense heat of the magma that sizzled and popped below provided a kind of eternal white nose. He was lost in a haze of memory, heat and above all...regret. He kept seeing Alphys’s concerned face, feeling his dinosaur-esque friend’s gentle touch on his shoudler. He kept seeing dear Asgore clutching that vial with the human soul inside it, pain etched into every line on his goat-like features. He kept seeing Subject 1-P, hearing his voice, a voice that had been so much like his own when HE was younger, insisting that deep down, he, Dr. W.D Gaster, was a good person. 

And he remembered most of all that Subject 2-S had rushed forward across the catwalk over the CORE, launching himself at him, trying to take them both down, down into the abyssal heat below. He remembered Subject 1-P trying to rush forward, his tiny hands reaching out, and the glow of his eyes as he tried to spark up his blue magic, and in that moment...in that instant, Gaster had known he would fail. As willing as 1-P was to try and save him, even after all the cruelties he had inflicted...though the spirit was willing, the flesh was weak.

His body had had a knee-jerk reaction to the use of the blue magic, a magic Gaster had forced him to try and use for monstrous things. And he’d flinched.

And failed.

And HE had fallen down...down...down…

And with that, his very existence ended, the faint scream of Alphys still lingering in his mind as she howled out in horror and denial and rage, “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!?”

And then…

He was cool, and on something amazingly soft and comfy. He wanted to just lie there forever, but the soft, tender strains of music that rang through the air made him rise up, and he stared, mouth slowly going agape at the scene of pure and absolute beauty that he knew would have no equal on Earth.

For now the skeletal monster in the dark, slightly slumpy jacket now stood before large, golden, pearly gates on a plain of fluffy white clouds, as an expanse of a thousand stars in a beautiful starlight sky flickered high above him. Gaster stared at his fantastical surroundings, his black eye sockets wide, the little white pupils gleaming in the dark recesses, gazing intently at what laid before him, nervously adjusting the light grey sweater he had on underneath the dark jacket he now had. At least THAT was still there. Didn’t know what he’d do without that. 

Yet before his eyes was not only beauty that would have made him weep had he had enough time to just sit there and take it all in, but a sight that made him inwardly shudder in a mixture of fear, and anger and disgust. For a distinctly HUMAN figure was now behind an ivy podium before those pearly gates, a white-bearded man wore an equally white robe, speaking to a green-and-gold-clothed angel that had deeply piercing green eyes, almost unnaturally green, with the iris being made up not exactly of simple color, but...repeating letters. Letters that circled around the pupil again and again, with a distinct green tinge and spelling out what appeared to be something in Latin. That same lettering appeared to make up the belt that held up the robe that the human behind the podium wore, but it was easier for Gaster to make out. He WAS experienced in ancient languages. 

“Parce Sepulto”? Forgive the Dead?” Gaster inquired, reaching up to adjust his glasses before realizing with a jolt that they were gone. His eyesight was perfect. He’d normally NEVER be able to read such tiny lettering. In fact, now that he read the Angel’s eyes, he could read the lettering there as well. “Fiat Justitia Ruat Caelum”, eh? Let justice be done, though the Heavens falls? Am I to be judged then by your ilk?”   
  
“This is not “Atlas Shrugged”, Dr. Gaster.” said the bearded man behind the podium as he locked his hands together and gave the skeletal monster a little smile, cracks now running up from the right socket of Gaster’s head, and down from the left one, making the former Chief Scientist of the Monster Kingdom appear a bit like a broken egg. “Your refusal to accept the legitimacy of this court means nothing. For if you won’t enter in a plea, the court will simply enter it for you. No playing “Henry Rearden”. You must be held accountable for the sake of the public good.”   
  
“I did what I thought was right for Monsterkind!” Gaster snapped back.

And then something...odd happened. Gaster felt the words he’d spoken slightly reverberate through the air, sounding echoey and booming, clapping about through the endless skies as he stood, stock still, astounded. “What was-?”

“How often are half-truths spoken when we believe ourselves to be honest?” said the Angel as it approached Gaster, and led him towards the gates, shaking his brown-haired head, his skin the color of perfect peach marble. “You can’t tell a lie up here in Heaven, Gaster. Everyone knows, for a lie is clearly rung out, made obvious and easy to see. It rings through the air like a clanging of a great bell. Even partial truths are obviously uncovered.” 

Gaster frowned darkly at this all-too-human face. “What is that supposed to mean?!”   
  
“You know you didn’t do what was right, and you know it wasn’t just for Monsterkind.” The angel said softly. “I am sure, in part, you believe that. You believe you did it for your people. But you did it for Asgore especially, to relieve him of his burden. You did it to see the sun again, to feel grass beneath your feet. You did it for science, for knowledge, to see if it could be done. And you did it for vengeance against the ones who sealed you away.”   


“It wasn’t revenge, it was JUSTICE!” Gaster yelled angrily, and he felt bitter, furious tears spring to his eyes. “Humans took my family from me, you can’t possibly understand-”

“Monsters took me from my family, but I don’t hate all of them.” A voice rang out.

And Gaster stopped, blinking in surprise, and he suddenly shuddered as he realized who was staring at him. She had on a purple dress shirt and a faintly dark pair of khaki pants, with purple and white sneakers, and distinctly teal, soft eyes behind somewhat cloudy cloudy glasses. Her brown hair was a complete frizzy, slightly spiky mess, flopping all over her head and cheeks, her glasses thick and brown, her nose slightly sharp and her eyebrows rather thick as she sighed and held up a steel-binded notepad. Getting out a pen from the pocket on the front of her shirt, she began writing.

“What is this.” Gaster said, his mouth agape as he stared at her. “I know who she is, she’s the girl who’s Soul was Perseverance, I recognize her from the camera feeds. She spent an inordinate amount of time with Gerson.” He remarked, his eyes beginning to narrow. “What is she doing here?”   
  
“Did you expect me to go to Hell? I didn’t kill any monsters.” said the girl, her tone having a very slight shaky undertone, as if she was having to give a report in front of the class and she was not looking forward to it at all. “I would think you’d ask why you’re here after all you did.” 

Gaster felt a renewed burst of fury rise in him. “You’re judging me?” He asked her angrily.

“You’re a scientist, doctor. Look at it from the scientific method. You know torture is wrong. You know killing is wrong. You know people who do wrong things go to the OTHER place. So ask yourself this: if I have done what I knew to be wrong, even if for good reasons, why am I here, and not there?” said the girl as she scribbled more upon her notepad. “Don’t tell me you never believed in any of this. I imagine any atheists or agnostics among you died out the minute you discovered Souls.”

Gaster flinched. This girl, despite the slightly shaky undertone, had eyes that were becoming as steely as the notebook she wrote in. “What do you want from me?”   
  
“Your cooperation in preparing your defense. My name is Christa Solomon Lewis, and I’m going to save your Soul, Dr. Gaster. I’m your lawyer, and we need to get you ready for the trial of your life.” Christa informed the skeletal monster, putting the notebook away as he stared, gobsmacked at this young human. “You’re going to be put in front of a jury of your peers and judged for the sins you committed, Dr. Wing Ding Aster, and I was asked to represent you.” 

She smiled a bit. “I expect HE thought it’d feel just like old times.” She added in a strangely wistful, sad tone that seemed, for a moment, to make her sound so much older than she truly was. A moment later, she gestured for Gaster to follow her as he stood there, staring in shock, glancing back to the angel who gave him a simple nod, then left, Gaster following after her along a golden pathway that led past beautifully pristine, ivory buildings. Towering ionic and doric pillars held up lofty openings to immense facilities, as that same beautiful, lilting music filled the air, and a large fountain nearby sprayed what was unmistakably wine up into a large pool around it. People sat at the edge, holding crystal goblets, taking lovely sips from the wine as Christa approached what was distinctly a library, for on either side of the double doorway leading in were a lamb atop a lion, both reading books. 

“The Library of Alexandria has nothing on this place, I assure you.” Christa remarked to Dr. Gaster, who just found himself wishing he looked a bit more...dignified. “And that’s a good thing, we’ll need every single book on law and legal defenses we can get.”   
  
Gaster stayed silent. He couldn’t believe that a human child, one of the children Asgore had been forced to kill, had been chosen to be his lawyer. How could this child possibly be unbiased? 

“I can tell you’re glaring at me, I can feel your eyes burning into me.” Christa said as they approached one of many towering bookcases with titles on the shelves that read things like “Truth and Justice, Volume 1-4” and “Common Law” and “Justice is Blind”. “Whatever you have on your mind, just say it. Not healthy to bottle it up.”   
  
“...I’ve had to bottle much up.” Gaster muttered. “But very well. Why YOU? You, someone who’s soul was taken by monsters, would make for a terrible lawyer! You’ve got no reason-”

“A monster lawyer would have been clearly biased as well, you realize that?” Christa intoned as someone walked towards them, his hands in the pockets of his blue, fluffy-hooded jacket as he quietly watched, his eyes slooowly narrowing. “I don’t know why I was asked, but I’m going to do the best I can. If you want to help yourself and your case, we need to talk about the extenuating circumstances of your life. If the jury feels sympathy for you, they’ll go easier on you. Tell me your life story, tell me about your family.” She offered. “An awful childhood can go a long way towards convincing juries to show mercy. If they know about how much you suffered, they may think you’ve suffered enough.”   
  
**“he HASN’T.”** said a low voice devoid of any good humor, a voice that Gaster recognized immediately. It wasn’t as young as it had once been, but he knew exactly who it was all the same, and he whipped around as he realized...he was no longer wearing what he was wearing outside. Instead, he was in his white labcoat, wearing his dark pants, brown dress shoes, he could even feel the nametag he usually wore in his labcoat pocket! Yet though his head felt oddly whispy and swimmy, though he almost swayed alarmingly as he stared, he still managed to stand his ground as he stared at the now grown-up Subject 1-S. 

The stubby, short and tubby skeleton was wearing dark grey pants and oddly enough, pink slippers. He had on a zipped-open blue hoodie, and a light grey shirt over his rather fat belly, but there wasn’t any smile in his features. Though his skeletal face had a design that made him look like he was almost always smiling, the absolute fury glittering in the recesses of his dark eye sockets made Gaster stiffen. 

Before, the anger and fury had been something Gaster had somewhat written off. After all, 1-S was weak. His “greatest attack”, an attack Gaster had designed FOR him to fight humans, to break through the Barrier, did a whopping 1 damage. It was like being flicked in the face. Yet now?

Now, this skeleton before him radiated a new kind of power. A presence that Gaster had not felt before. He was all grown-up. 

And he was mad.

**“you don’t deserve to be up here.”**

“Sans…” Christa spoke quietly, trying to be calm but Sans gave her a dark glower that made her shut up.

**“i haven’t FORGOTTEN, doctor!”** Sans said, his deep voice quivering as he held up his hand, and though they were gone now, Gaster could faintly see an afterimage of drilled-in plates flickering at the top of Sans’s fist. He could faintly hear Sans’s screaming wails, remembering the agonized begging of the child as Gaster had drilled the handplates onto him.  **“you tortured my brother and me, you tried to make us kill, the things you did are nigh-unforgivable. keeping us locked in cold cells, forcing us to fight, seeing how much we could TAKE...i ain’t forgotten that, Gaster!”** Sans yelled balefully, as his eyes seemed to glow with a terrifying blue flame.  **“i haven’t been a kid since I was what, FIVE?! you stole that from me and my brotherhood! we endured years of horrors at your hand, and WE didn’t turn out to be child-abusing, self-centered murdering-”**

“FIFTEEN TIMES.” Christa said suddenly, all traces of calm now gone from her, as a detached, terrifying coldness stabbed deep into Sans, making HIM stiffen, and Gaster turned to look at her. “Fifteen times in the judgment hall. Despite them screaming and sobbing and begging for you to stop even after they’d tossed away their knife.” 

 Sans “harrumphed” and shoved his hands forcibly into his blue jacket. **“...fine. PAPS didn’t.”**

“No. He didn’t.” Christa said quietly as she sighed. “But not everyone can be as strong as your brother. Not even “Daddy Dearest” over here.” 

Sans laughed bitterly, turning away and making off for what appeared to be a children’s section, as Christa smiled, Gaster staring in surprise. There was 1-P, in a big, gigantic set of armor with a red scarf, gloves and overly large boots. His smile was as huge and gleaming as it always was, his voice rather high-pitched, almost faintly dopey, as he sat in an immensely huge, blue bean bag chair. He was reading aloud from a book called “Winnie The Pooh” to a young African American girl with very frazzled hair and a rather skinny, lean body who had beautifully piercing blue eyes, and was wearing a plain, simple white robe as her tiny hands laid in her lap.

“I’ve got something to tell you, Pooh Bear.” “Is it good news?” “No, it’s not.” “Then it can wait.” “For how long?” “Forever and ever.” 

“Hope loves listening to Papyrus read.” Christa said with a deep smile as Gaster realized that he was looking at the Soul of Patience. “She can listen to him for hours. He’s so good with kids.”   
  
“His own Soul has always been very……….” Gaster trailed off.

He wasn’t sure what he’d been about to say. 

 

Weak? 

 

Soft? 

 

Sympathetic? 

 

Kind? 

 

... _ better _ ? 

 

“Well, he and Sans came from you, Gaster.” Christa remarked. “That’s where they got their first sparks of self. They had to learn kindness from somewhere. From Sans, it was from Paps. And from Paps, I think...from you. He does look a lot like you. You’ve got the same big doofy smile. And when you laugh...” She chuckled. “It’s like I’m watching “A Goofy Movie” and hearing Max laugh just like his dad he used to be so embarrassed by.”  

Gaster sighed, long and hard. “Are you...are you trying to connect to me? Do you think that by acting for my defense and...and trying to speak of the kindness I have within that I’ll just forget that you’re a human? Do you not understand that my life was  ruined by humans?” He told her. It was as if a blockage in his very spirit had had a knife stuck into it, and it was slowly drizzling out what laid beyond. Bit by bit, he was feeling the urge to talk about everything he’d endured when he was back on the surface.

Back when he could spend hours just...sitting under the rain.

He used to love the rain. White noise, soft and steady, flowing all around you. Under an umbrella, it was like you were in your own little world, and everything was just...peace. Soft and steady peace.

He did miss his the feel of the sun on his bones. He missed the texture of the grass. He missed the way the wind very gently flowed through the tiny, adorable little stubby hair on his soft-boned head. 

But what he missed most of all was the rain.   
  
“My life was taken by monsters and I don’t hate them.” Christa intoned. “I got impaled through the chest by Asgore and I don’t hate him for what he did.” 

  
“You’re a CHILD, it’s easier for you to forgive! I had  **decades** to think about my pain, I had  **CENTURIES** , I…” Gaster trailed off.    
  
“I’ve died many, many times, Gaster.” Christa spoke quietly. “Sometimes by your hand, other times by Asgore’s, a few even by Alphys. That’s the downside to multiple timelines.” She remarked with a ghoul of a smile. “Cuz when you get up here, you remember  everything from everywhere . You’ll remember it too, if they let you stay. And maybe then you’ll think twice about assuming I haven’t suffered enough. So I’ll ask again. Tell me about your family.

Gaster let out a very long, deep sigh. “If I tell you, I don’t want you...pitying me.” He grumbled. “I couldn’t bear it.”   
  
“Pity implies I think  lesser of you.” Christa said. “It’s not pity that you show equals. It’s sympathy.” 

Gaster flinched.

...but he cleared his throat, and he began to speak. 


	2. Who Will Speak for the Defense

"I remember my mother Arial telling me she loved the rain. That I was created in the rain. My origin was uniquely tied to it, and that's one of the reasons, I suppose, I loved it so much.

When it rains, there's a strange electricity that sizzles in the air. The atmosphere changes, you can feel it coming, and then...then, everything becomes so much quieter, muffled. Most headed inside. Not I. I'd wrap my scarf around my neck, and get my glasses on, and I'd go out, out into the storms with my umbrella.

I would feel as though all my worries had faded away, muffled by the big quilt of sound that came from the rain pouring around me. The pitter-patter of rain droplets on my umbrella was a soothing white noise to me, and I'd just spent hours just...standing and listening and talking to the rain. Thinking out loud. Dreaming away, me, the rain, and my little personal shelter.

I would prefer, though, when I could, to spend my time under the rain out in the fields in the large town I lived in, or better still, in the woods. When the rain trickles down through a forest, it adds an unusual sort of...rhythm. It was like a shelter IN a shelter for me, and it felt even more comforting than usual.

I'd just take in the greens of the trees, and I'd wait, and wait, and finally, when the rain had ended, the leaves would be freshly glimmering and glittering with the newly fallen rain. It would all be so beautiful, like everything had been covered in a diamond sheen, glistening in the light of the sun.

I preferred that. It wasn't exactly safe to be out on the sidewalk or in the streets when it rained. My eldest brother, Trajan, would offer to stay out with me sometimes. He was always very worried for my well-being. Felt being out with me would make me feel safer, and better still, make our mother, Arial, and our father, Roman, feel safer. After all, our grandfather Gothic had gone out alone onto a street late one night and never came home, but...no, no, I always insisted I'd be fine, I'd stay out of the streets. Away from humans.

Yous see, the city was divided, self-segregated between monsters and humans, one of the many border towns on the two kingdoms, the one belonging to Monsters, the other belonging to Humans. I would get many, MANY strange, often dirty or frightened looks as humans gazed out their windows or across the street or in my direction at the market. The north side of the town belonged primarily to the monsters, the South side to the humans, with the market in the middle.

Milling about in the market, you could almost pretend everything was just...fine. But even there, there was an electricity in the air you could faintly feel. A tenseness. A nervousness. People wouldn't really like to linger that long, especially not if you didn't feel there were enough of your kind there.

Humans didn't much...care for many monsters. Some they found cute, I admit. Adorable, even, for they resembled their own pets, or they were too harmless-looking to feel threatened by them. Nobody, for example, ever really feared a froggit, and some, well...some even found the mer-race intriguing. Sailors, after all, had always told stories of the beauty of mermaids on the sea, out in their natural habitat, and it was not uncommon for men or women of mankind to tilt their head and gaze upon the vibrant blue shaded skin of the merfolk. To see their rich, vibrant, red hair, the way the sun shone off their scales.

There was an erotic beauty, I admit, to the merfolk that did intrigue some humans. Made them admire them, the great advance guard of Monsterkind, who worked so hard to uphold law and order in our towns or our SECTIONS of towns. On the other side, there were rather ugly monsters nobody felt love for, like that of Gerald and his kin."

"Ohhh, you mean JERRY and his family?"

"What?"

Gaster was snapped out of his remembrance of times long past by the Soul of Perseverance nodding sagely, her eyes a-glittering with knowledge behind her glasses. "Yeah, Jerry's family. They're all kind of "UFO" shaped, am I right? Greyish in color, too? Rather beady black eyes?"

"Oh yes. That was them. Their unique sect of monsters didn't have much power of their own." Gaster said, and a bit of a snort erupted from his mouth. "Pfft. Rather  **pitiful** , really. Their only true brand of magic was increasing the magical skills of others, but we didn't really get to experience such a benefit from them, because THEY had decided to throw their lot in with humans. In fact, Gerald, Jerry's father, personally taught one of the 7 Mages that created the barrier."

Gaster folded his arms over his chest as he sat in the library chair, and his eyes deeply narrowed. For a moment, he felt a surge of bitter anger and resentment and frustration rise up in him, and it was as if he was a young lad all over again, hatefully gazing at Gerald all over again, him and his...student. His HUMAN student.

"You've no idea how infuriating it was to so many of us to see him helping HUMANS with magical power. It was an insult to so many of us. It felt as though he was selling out his kind, plain and simple. I remember one of my brothers, Garamond, a rather thin, lanky fellow, he got into an argument with Gerald's human student. Said it was insulting that he, a "white-haired little freak" was getting taught magic by a "pathetic Judas Iscariot of monsterkind". The student surprised Gerald by using better blue magic than Garamond could ever do, and HE had been one of the family's best fighters! I was astounded Gerald would teach the human how to manipulate blue magic..."

"Well it doesn't sound like you treated his family well." Christa remarked, the Soul of Perseverance leaning back in her chair and shaking her frizzy-haired head. "His family was the first breed up against the wall when monsters decided to enter war with humans. Didn't Undyne's mother order them to be STONED to death? She personally threw the boulder that cracked Gerald's head open like a melon. Perhaps if you'd treated them with more decency, they would have spent time with your side, instead of the humans, who actually appreciated them."

"Th-they only tolerated them because they could enhance other's magic!"

"Yes, but your side wouldn't EVEN tolerate them, so they went with the side that at least was HONEST about what they wanted. Apathy and indifference are a lot more infuriating to people than being used and being aware you're being used. At least the latter's honest. And the former's even harder to take if its from your own "species", who should have been shown more compassion than the race that supposedly despised all monsters."

Gaster frowned darkly. "How do you even KNOW of the fate of that breed of monster?"

"Up in Heaven, the Heavenly Host knows past and present and future, HE included. Those down...below...in the other place, y'know..." Christa cringed. "They only know the future and the past, but not the present. We normal folks in Heaven know the present AND the past, but not the future. It's one of the benefits to being up here, because in the end, when all are to be judged, there will only be the Present, and those in Hell will know...nothing." Christa remarked with a sad sigh. "So I'm aware of Jerry's past. The jury will know of yours, as will the judge. But what matters is your integrity, and your thoughts, and feelings. We know what you DID. We don't know how you felt...what you thought. If we know that, it can inform WHY you did what you did, and make it easier for you to convince the Heavenly Host you belong here."

Gaster frowned a bit, looking slightly to the side before he finally sighed again. "Very well. You want to know then, how I felt about humans? They didn't like me much and I didn't like them."

"Because they scared you?"

"We scared them too. You see..."

A hesitant moment, and then...

"Humans believed skeletons were...created from them. It was a rather strange, persistent rumor. They called us " _revenants_ ", thinking we were animated corpses, the dead come back to life through darkly magical means. Unfortunately their reasoning was remarkably and disturbingly sound, for monsters, as you've no doubt realized, do not have skeletons. Our bodies are made up not really of bones or blood, but of magical dust. Hence why we leave no true "remains". So in a twisted way, it would make sense for some humans to believe we skeletons monsters had, at one point, been humans.

My mother, Arial, told me that on day on our way back from the market. It had begun to rain, and as I was walking alongside her, the gleam of her armor a-glittering in the light as she stood tall and proud, eyes beaming, I could see her face fall, see her stiffen as a woman in a shawl walked by, muttering to herself. "Revenant", she said. "Foul things. Unnatural."

I asked my mother what it all meant, and she deeply sighed, and clutched her head in one of her large-gloved hands. She told me about why humans thought this way, and then ruffled over my head, at the soft fuzziness of my skull as the first droplets of rain began to fall. She said it was so silly, so foolish, and I tried to put it out of my mind as I went to get my umbrella, and to head out into the forest again during the storm.

But out there, in the dark depths of the woods, I saw a human. He was...rather young, I suppose. Barely older than I was. He was soaked to the brim, the rain pouring down around him as he peered about, wearing a large, slightly poofy jacket of deep blue. He was pushing around through the bushes, and I could hear him muttering.

Now, we skeletons, for the most part, stick to our own language. The "Hands" language that many others do not speak, but basic, normal English I knew well enough. And it seemed so strange and odd that he'd be out here, in the woods, in the rain. When I called out, asking him what he was doing, he raised his dark-brown-haired head up, and turned.

I remember, his...his eyes, they were so oddly...strange. They were so deep, and dark hazel green, and he had a somewhat small nose, and his cheeks were so rosy. He just stared at me at first, then he spoke.

"What do you want?" He asked, his tone suspicious.

"You are getting very wet." I said.

He looked away from me, and pouted slightly. "Yeah, well...hmph. I'm looking for someone. It's not any of your business."

"Why would they be out in the rain?"

"Why are YOU out in the rain?"

I stared a little bit at him, slightly confused by this. I wasn't used to talking to humans, I allowed myself to be tripped up, I childishly replied back "I just like the rain."

"Oh?" The human looked me up and down, and I noticed he seemed to be considering something. He looked strangely at me, in a way that was a mixture of...I can't quite place it. Was it disappointment? Regret? Anger? Suspicion?

"It's calming to me." I said quickly, looking slightly down at my boot-covered feet, as the human went to stand under a nearby enormous oak tree and he folded his arms over his chest, shivering a bit under the cold before he finally spoke up. "So why are you out in the rain?"

"I keep hoping I will find my brother. He loved these woods." The human muttered, and I remember him just staring off, over my head, as if seeing someone behind me who wasn't really there. "It has been years since I saw him, yet every single week I keep trying to find a time to get away from my father's smithy, back to these woods he loved, especially in the rain. He also loved the rain. The longer he is gone, I know, th-the...the less..." He stuttered, and stammered, and his tone began to break. "The less likely I shall f-find him...living. Yet every time I hear the door knocking...every time I hear a creak out in my house, I keep thinking, and hoping...I'll hear his voice again. And he'll say "Gotcha, Hazel", and tackle me like he loved to do, and...and I'd carry him around the woods again like I loved to do so much."

I remember he tried to cover his face to hide tears, then. He drew in a shuddering breath, then spoke. "But I have not seen my brother in so long. And I miss him. You couldn't understand. You probably have plenty of brothers and...and sisters and..." He stormed off, and I didn't really seem him too often again. Yet every once in a while, at the market, I thought I saw him peer at me when he was with his own family, staring at mine and my brothers.

I never understood why, to this day. Nor why he did what he did when he found me on the field of battle that fateful day. The end of a week's worth of fighting. We had decided that we'd begin by having the goblins and the imps lay waste to the first wave of humans with archery strikes, and then we skeletons would barrel forth. Unfortunately, this did not work out so well, for though we killed quite a few of  **them** , they had the numbers we did not, and could simply...overwhelm us. Five monsters to take down one human soldier was not uncommon. Oh, how...how  **stupid**  I was!

I didn't want to fight. I was too afraid. I lingered at the edge, thinking, perhaps, that my brothers wouldn't need me. True, we had lost our mother and father so early, even before the fighting truly started but...my brothers had always been STRONGER than my parents in a fight. I thought they'd be fine. We had the entire skeleton guard on the front lines. We didn't have to worry. I didn't have to worry.

What an incredible delusion that was, to believe. Because in the end, there I was...seeing my brother's dust dissipating in the wind, and HE was there. That...that boy, Hazel, now in a furious, baleful rage, a white coat whipping around him...and he...had a glow around his sword. He had magical ability, he was one of the MAGES of the Human kingdom. And he had a blue blaze around his sword the likes of which I'd never seen. He pointed it at me, and I was lifted up, up into the air, and sent whizzing towards him. It felt like I was being squeezed by a gigantic hand, my very soul gripped by an iron vice. He shook me angrily, looking into my face. I can...I can barely remember what he said, it's all so hazy. He was...crying? I...I remember that.

And I remember I smacked him in the face. I think I might have broken his nose. I remember his blood splurting out onto me, him tossing me onto the ground in front of him. I remember speaking, in the language of hands,  **daring**  him to kill me. He had nothing left to take!

Then he spoke.

"Now I guess we BOTH don't have brothers."

I remember collapsing. And crying, and crying, and crying. I don't know to this day why he didn't kill me. He just took off the white coat he wore, and sheathed his sword, and tossed it to the side, along with his coat. He must have walked away.

I don't understand why.

I just...I just don't."

Christa, however, did. She quietly folded her hands in her lap, wondering when it would be safe to tell Gaster that he had indeed been "born" in the rain. Born when a little boy had tragically been killed out in the forest, his flesh and muscle gone, only bones remaining...bones...and a soul that had lost so much of what had once been in it, yet faintly retained a trace element of what came before. He had gone from being Aster, named after a flower just like his brother and his sister, to being named after a typeface. Another skeletal 'foundling', picked up by one of the skeleton monsters, by "Grandpa Gothic", of all people. Gothic, who had never forgotten his momentary angry lashing out at the child he'd found out in the woods, and had regretted it for years. And who had then died out there, in the woods, in the very place he'd hastily killed little Aster in an burst of fire magic...died in his old, decrepit age, lost in thought and regret, by a freak lightning strike. Ironically struck down in the same place he'd killed Hazel the Mage's brother.

It was a tragic truth that monsterkind didn't want to own up to. All skeleton monsters were "unnaturally" born. They had to come from humans, or, in Sans and Paps's case, "clones" of a sort. No monster wanted to admit to this, for the only way a skeleton monster was born was through a human death at magical hands, and it was primarily MONSTERS that had magic, not humans. Every monster, after all, could do magic.

Christa hesitated, then said "Um...Gaster...have you ever noticed that skeleton monsters are very, very adept at...blue magic? The magic associated with moving items around, gravity? And...well..."

"Yes?"

"Well...ALL human mages could use that type of magic. All of them, every single one. But no other monster besides skeletons can." She said nervously. "So, what I'm trying to say is...did it ever cross your mind to...well...do a kind of test on your own body to find out if...well...if you WERE formerly a human?"

Gaster gaped for what seemed to be a long time, simply staring in sheer shock. "That...that can't be. I would remember if I'd been a human, surely!"

"Not exactly, not if you died. A traumatic event like that would hurt your memories immensely. How much can you remember before you turned...say, 8? 7?" Christa inquired, and her tone seemed to quiver and slightly shake, an uncomfortable shudder rising off her.

Gaster hesitated again, then slowly narrowed his eyes at her. "Are you saying that...that that human Hazel was right, that-that-"

"You were, technically, born in the rain...as a skeleton monster. But before that, yeah, you...you were a human, just like all the other skeleton monsters used to be. It isn't something they really like to admit to, and many probably didn't even know it themselves, but...yes." Christa mumbled out. "Your original name was Aster Perkins. Hazel probably guessed right when he went to confront you."

"Then why did it look like..." Gaster began to say, his voice becoming pained and...and coarse, and hurt. "Like he HATED me? Wanted me dead?"

"If I really had to guess, it was that he hated you as much as he loved you." Christa murmured. "He hated what you'd become, but he still cared about his little brother. He was torn between his duty between family and country, his love and his hatred. He didn't know what to do. It was probably...I mean..." Now her voice seemed to crack. "Looking at you, it was probably Hell for him. Because you keep seeing the person you love, yet they're  **not**  them. You keep wishing it was.  **Wishing**  it was them, as if they'd never left at all, but then they open their mouths and you realize no, it isn't them. You don't know them. And this...this stranger wearing your dearest friend's face is standing right in front of you, and you don't know how to feel because being with them is like being back there all over again and yet it HURTS, it HURTS because its not them, and you'll probably never see them again and you get reminded of that EVERY MINUTE YOU'RE WITH THIS STRANGER!" She said, her tone rising, getting higher, more pained, tears brimming in her eyes.

Gaster blinked in stunned shock for a few moments as Christa took off her glasses, wiping them on her purple shirt, panting a bit. "S-Sorry, I...just...it's stupid. It's stupid." she muttered.

But it wasn't, Gaster realized. Now, at last, he thought he understood why THIS girl was representing him in the court. Why she wouldn't be "biased" in favor of him, not really. And to make sure of his theory, he asked one simple question.

"How well did you know me in your timeline?"

"...enough to get a good birthday present. It was a joke book inside a physics book inside a joke book." She muttered out, slowly putting her glasses back on her face. "You always said Sans got his sense of humor from you."

"I can't be that Gaster." He intoned quietly.

"I know. I figured that out. My head knows that. My heart feels different. Every time you speak, sometimes, it's like...like the Gaster I knew IS speaking out through you. And that's when it hurts the most, knowing that one of my best friends in the world isn't in front of me, despite all the evidence my senses are telling me." Christa whispered out. "I want to believe. Even if it's a lie, I want to believe."

Gaster didn't have an answer. He just sighed quietly, looked away, and said...

"Maybe...we ought to take a break."

Christa just nodded, slowly rising up and making for the door as Gaster looked down at his hands as he laid them on the table. He tried as best he could to picture flesh over them, to think of skin, and proper cheeks, and hair. And for a moment, he thought he could feel it.

But then that was gone, and he was simply touching cold bone, sitting alone in a quiet little space of a large, now-empty library, with nothing but the cold weight of truth slowly sinking into him.

"Do you expect me to pity you?"

Gaster turned around, seeing Sans behind him, his hands in the pockets of his large blue jacket, "harrumphing".  **"oh, how awful, your childhood sucked. you had your brothers taken. you know what I think? you knew how much it sucked. you knew how awful it was to lose your family. yet once you decided my brother Papyrus and I were just tools to use, you threatened me and Paps with losing ours every week. you knew better, but you still DID it."**

Gaster groaned slightly, rubbing his temples as he turned around, blinking as he stared briefly down at himself. He wasn't in his usual lab attire anymore. He felt over his frame, realizing he was...shifting. The labcoat occasionally flickered and shifted, turning into a darker coat with an adorably fuzzy, warm silver sweater beneath, and he stared in surprise as Sans chuckled a bit.

**"aw, ain't that cute. The perception Christa has of you is so nice. so...warm and friendly. so familiar. she can't stop seeing him, HER Gaster, every time she looks at you. and its clashing with what you really are. the sick bastard who tortured me and my brother."**

"I had wondered why my appearance seemed to shift upon arrival here." Gaster murmured. "So...my visage is divided thanks to how I am seen up here? Will that change should I be judged worthy to enter Heaven?"

 **"you didn't say "when"."**  Sans remarked.  **"...why didn't you say " when I am judged worthy"?**" He inquired, raising an invisible eyebrow up, looking almost amused.

"I cannot see the future, Sans. I'm not like you." Gaster remarked quietly. "I imagine that must give you a bit of joy inside, knowing whether or not I'll survive all this, holding it over my head."

 **"oh, that gift isn't with me anymore. Not once we got out of the Underground."**  Sans remarked, shaking his head. **"i'm as in the dark as you are. and if I did know, I'd tell you."**  He remarked.  **"...well, if it was bad, I'd tell you. just to watch you struggle...just so you'd know it feels to try and fight the inevitable."**

"I spent every day doing that." Gaster said angrily. "You weren't on the Surface, you didn't see the war, Sans. You had NO idea what it was like! No idea the horrors of the War of Humans and Monsters. You didn't have to breathe in your own brother's dust, watching bits of your family spilling through your fingers!" He roared out, rising up, his body quaking and shivering, his eyes filled with a pure, absolute, raw rage. "I had everything taken from me! EVERYTHING! I couldn't see the sun anymore, I couldn't feel grass beneath my feet, I couldn't see the rain, and my family was gone! GONE! You want to complain about almost losing your family? Except for your brother, why don't you tell me?"

He now took a furious step at Sans, who stayed stock still, just staring as Gaster got up in his face, a baleful glint in his eye. " _What in the HELL did you have to lose?_ "

Sans visibly flinched at this, his body slightly quivering as Gaster darkly grit his teeth. "I lost...my home. I lost my world. I lost my mother, and my father, and my brothers. I lost my CULTURE. My PEOPLE. All you really had was your brother. The threat of losing that means NOTHING to someone who actually did lose it all. So don't you dare judge me. Especially when you didn't endure half the pain I did. You never suffered the way I did."

 **"so that makes what you did okay!?"** Sans yelled back.  **"everything we suffered at your hands meant NOTHING in the end! the "strength" and the "gifts" you tried to give us to have us be barrier breakers, or to fight humans? in the end, it meant nothing, cuz WE sure as hell didn't break the Barrier! and I've seen the other routes, the roads less traveled by. Bad news, Gaster! my brother and I couldn't defeat the human, we just died. a lot! not only do we not escape the Underground, but everyone down there dies, cuz we couldn't even beat a single child! at least YOU could argue the pain YOU went through helped you make us, at least SOMETHING good came from what you endured, but what we suffered through?! it...meant... nothing."** Sans said, as tears began to rise in his sockets.  **"because we didn't free our people, we didn't break the barrier, all we endured at your hands meant nothing! our pain was meaningless. the very reason we were made?...it all means nothing. because a human kid broke the barrier and freed us."**

Sans wiped his eyes on his sleeve, looking away, cringing as he folded his arms over his chest. **"sometimes I even hate the kid. because looking at him, I get reminded that all I endured meant nothin'. no point in being a weapon to shatter the barrier or hurt humans if we're free, on Earth, and now friends with humans. and sometimes i hate him because of what roads he took, the awful things he did, yet even then, i...love him."**  Sans murmured.  **"he's so young, and he suffered too. died so often in the Underground. and even after all that, at the end of the day, despite all he endured, in the end...he made the right choice. he has tried so hard to be good, and loving, and to forgive. but you?"**

Sans turned back to Gaster, and laughed, cold, low and foul.  **"you're not some stupid kid who doesn't know better. you had a choice every day. you chose...poorly. and now you want others to feel bad for you? as if what you suffered somehow makes it okay that WE suffered? no. no freakin' way. you don't get a pass because your life sucked. nobody does. you had a choice. you chose WRONG."**

And with that, Sans left the library, leaving Gaster well, and truly, alone. He felt his visage shift, turning, altering, forming now into his white labcoat, and he sat down in his chair again, and covered his face in his hands. It felt as though his very face was burning as he quietly cried for what seemed to be a long, long time, drifting off into an uneasy slumber. Luckily, in about five minutes, a gentle form draped a large, hand-knitted blanket over him, patting his back and walking away, leaving Christa to stare up at them.

"Papyrus, how nice to see you." she said softly, holding out her hand as he took it in his large glove. "I'm amazed you find time to knit."

"I CAN ALWAYS MAKE TIME FOR FAMILY." Papyrus offered with a smile.

An idea began to come to Christa. Maybe, perhaps...there was a possibility for redemption. "Papyrus, do you think you and I could talk in private? I'd like to call you as a witness tomorrow night at the beginning of the trial..."


	3. You're Not Strong Enough to Make Those Choices

Gaster let out a long yawn, smacking his lack of lips as he squinted a bit before noticing his glasses had fallen off...and that someone had put a blanket on him. Hand-knitted, warm, fuzzy and with a big, distinctly grinning smiley face on the top. He blinked a bit, feeling over the soft texture with his hands before a nice cup of hot coffee was put down next to him, and another human sat next to him, looking cheerily at him.

This human appeared to be mixed blood, an Asian American. The skin color and shape of the face indicated a rich Asian heritage, though it was difficult for Gaster to place whether it meant Chinese, Japanese or perhaps even Korean or Taiwanese. The hair color though was a distinct brown color, and rather long, and they were wearing and overly large blue and purplish-striped long sleeve shirt, rubbing their own eyes with one hand, the other holding a cup of hot cocoa.

"For you." the human said. Gaster wasn't quite sure whether they were a boy or a girl. He supposed they looked more like a boy, but their features were rather androgynous. It was difficult to guess. "Sista Christa told me you liked coffee. Strong coffee."

Gaster raised an invisible eyebrow up, looking the mug over. It had a "World's Best Dad" label upon it, and he wryly chuckled, reaching out with his skeletal hand to sip from it.

About fifteen seconds later, he'd been propelled up into the chrystal chandelier light fixture that hung above his head, the brown-haired human cringing. "Sorry, she said to make it strong."

"I had no idea my fingers could still grip like this." Gaster squeaked out, clinging to the chandelier with his eye sockets bulging, his entire body quaking, bones a-rattling as the human giggled.

"Awww, you're rattlin' your bones! You skeletons are so cute when you do that. Also, I loved hearing about how you and Sans and Papyrus have tiny little hair atop your heads. Fuzzy skulls. So can I ask you a question?"

Gaster's teeth kept chattering as he slooooowly let go of the chandlier, and flopped back into the chair below, moaning as he picked himself up. "A-A-Ask a-away..."

"Do you know what a skeleton uses for his hair?"

"...what?"

"Conditio-nyeh." (Conditioner).

Gaster stared at the human, who grinned sheepishly before Gaster distinctly BLUSHED, and covered his face with his bony hands. "Ohhhhhhhh. That is as terrible a pun as anything HE'S said." He groaned, thinking back to Sans. "You've most definitely been spending a lot of time with them if you've already picked up on...SANS'S horrible sense of humor. Then again, part of that must also come from me..." Gaster confessed with a sigh.

"Actually, that one came from Papyrus. Which made it really funny, he's usually the one who gets annoyed by the puns Sans makes." The human said with a chuckle as Gaster dusted himself off and rose up. "But ol' "Dunkle" Sans still has a few good ones."

"Dunkle?"

"Yep. Because if he feels up to it, he'll dunk on you. He likes doing it to me with ketchup a lot. I've learned the hard way to  **never**  take any bottles whatsoever from him. Name's Frisk. Frisk M. Dreemurr!" he said, holding out a hand.

"Dreemurr?" Gaster looked confusedly at Frisk as he shook the human's hand nervously. "How? Did the king and queen adopt you as they did with Chara Vardalos?"

"Oh, they're not king and queen anymore, but yeah. They adopted me! My original mom didn't mind. I mean, she  **was**  dead and all and she knew Ms. Toriel was really sweet and Asgore was a sweetheart deep down."

"Who's your mother?" Gaster inquired, now a bit concerned and confused.

"Oh, you might know her as the Soul of Justice. Bonnie Hatfield-McCoy?"

Gaster flinched at this. He did know about her. He had been on his way to talk to Asgore, and had been thinking about Sans and Papyrus. He'd begun to feel the pangs of guilt sinking back into him, he'd had a sleepless night, Sans having stuck a hot knife of truth into his very gut.

The truth that he thought HE had no choice. That he HAD to keep hurting Sans and Paps, had to keep making them stronger through pain, molding them into weapons. He did have a choice. He just wasn't brave enough to make them. That thought kept digging into Gaster's mind.

But then it dissolved when Gaster walked into Asgore's room and saw the yellow soul floating in a capsule in Asgore's hand.

All his guilt had turned to horror and pity as he looked at Asgore's face. His old, dear friend who had turned a thousand years older in just a few minutes, and looked even more frail and pathetic as he stared at the floating human soul in his grasp.

"OH NO..." Gaster had murmured.

"They were so small, Gaster. They didn't even want to fight." Asgore said, his voice breaking, his body shaking, Gaster dropping the clipboard he'd brought with him. "Just a  _child_. A child, like my..." Asgore trailed off.

"L-Let me look at it!" Gaster said quickly, taking the capsule away, peering at the container, at the Soul of Justice. He flinched. Inside his own soul, he could faintly see a brown-haired young teen who had been very clearly weakened from constant assaults by other monsters...and finally, at last, had her heart and chest crushed by a swift blow from the blunt end of Asgore's trident. For a brief moment, he saw her eyes...and they were as sunken and dead as Asogre's was right now.

Gaster had been disgusted with what his dear friend was being driven to. All in the name of setting monsterkind free. This was killing him. This was dissolving Asgore's very soul.

He had sworn, then that he would not fail. And so he'd come up with another possibility. Looking into not just simply breaking the barrier...but breaking through space and time. If he could only go back in time...keep the barrier from ever going up...

It hadn't worked out that way. And now he was standing in front of that young teen's child?

"I...imagine you must hate monsters."

"Monsters are people, and people make mistakes." Frisk said with a sigh. "I mean...a lot. Like, a lot a lot. Me included. Nearly everyone in the Underground took a swing at me at some point, and I died a whole bunch of times, but...well, when you have DETERMINATION, when you can go back and fix what went wrong, you can either become two things." He said as he led Gaster towards the door to the library.

"What are those?"

"Very kind, because all the pain you endured made you open your heart, and feel for those who hurt, to want to make sure others don't hurt, to do things right...or you get very cruel, because you feel nothing matters, and its all just a game, so...do whatever you want. You can just RESET it. Doesn't matter if it's all changed back to the way it was at the end." Frisk confessed. "I ended up being the first thing. I didn't want to kill, and I didn't want to be killed."

"You can't be more then eleven years old." Gaster said, looking Frisk over. "That must have been traumatic..." He mumbled, looking slightly away, feeling the faint jolt of past horror rising, and for a second, he was a little babybones again, and his brother's dust was sifting through his fingers.

"Which is why Sans and Frisk have much in common." Gaster heard Christa's voice ring out as he stared, seeing Christa adjusting her glasses, and gesturing at a glittering road that led towards what appeared to be an enormous courtroom off in the distance, with a roof made of the soft starlight of the night sky. Rays of light were beaming down all around them from a beautiful sun as tender classical music filled their ears, and Christa escorted the two towards the courtroom. "When one's confronted with a horrible situation, there's only two reactions that make sense. Laughter, or tears. And laughter, after all, is nature's anesthesia..."

"Because tears hurt too much." Frisk finished, slightly hanging his head as he put his hands in his pants pockets, Gaster slightly turning to look away.

"You two are very  **old**  for ones so young." Gaster finally said at last as Christa smiled a bit and patted Frisk's shoulders.

"We have a lot in common. Perseverance and Determination are like brother and sister. Both involve striving towards the future, a sense of not wanting to give up, similar in a way to Justice. Justice always wants to do what's fair and just and keeps trying no matter what. Peseverance always wants to do what's smart and intelligent. And Determination is always about doing what one thinks is right." Christa said with a smile. "We've had so much time to talk up here and we think we've got a good defense for you. You're going to need it, since Chara is the prosecutor."

"CHARA?!" Gaster exclaimed.

Chara. Yes, indeed. Inside the pearly walls of the courtroom as Gaster sat at the defense table, the prosecution on the other side, there she stood. A brown-haired young girl, wearing a long-sleeve green shirt with yellow stripes running through it, her face so rosy red, and with eyes...eyes so deep brown they were almost red with such a "delightful" smile on her angelic features. Such a little cutie. Such a little...angel...

"...hello, Chara." Gaster grumbled a bit, his eyes narrowing behind his glasses as the many, many throngs of people in the gallery sat watching, Chara cheerily grinning at Gaster before turning to the judge, Gaster gulping nervously. There was absolutely no mistaking who this person was. He knew exactly who it was. The greatest judge of all.

"Your honor."

"Is the prosecution and the defense ready?" The Judge remarked softly, calmly laying his hands on his beautifully sanded wooden podium as Gaster turned to Christa, who had Frisk give her a snazzy metal clipboard, Chara holding up her own.

"Yes, your Honor!"

"The prosecution may begin opening remarks."

"It's simple, your honor. Very simple. This is a waste of a life. An abysmal waste of a life. Gaster had chance after chance, day after day to do the right thing, and he failed miserably. He tortured two children for months, even years on end. He lied to his friends, and almost broke open the space-time continuum with his foolish experiments. This man does not deserve your Mercy. He lost that right a long, long time ago." Chara said, slamming the metal clipboard down onto the table before her. "GUILTY. That's all I have to say!"

Christa rose up, clearing her throat, as Gaster nervously kneaded his hands, then looked over at the Witness box, seeing Papyrus, and the fear and nervousness and terror he had seemed to faintly dissolve at the soft smile of his "firsborn's" face.

"Wing Ding Aster, better known as Gaster, is a victim himself. A former human tragically murdered at a young age, taken in and raised as a monster in a time of war. Taken from his first family, then from his second, all he had left to hold onto, his only rock, were Asgore and Toriel, and then, after that, Ms. Alphys. He wanted his people to be freed from the Underground, and to alleviate the agony of his dear friends, to spare them the cruel task of continuing to murder humans in the name of claiming their souls and breaking the Barrier! All that he has done has been in the name...of Love. Love for his friends, love for his "family", love of the life he once had that he wanted so badly to reclaim. There's a tiny flower, a little speck of green, a tiny piece of Love within his soul, and it should be nourished and encouraged, not just stamped out. Give him a second chance. Not Guilty!" Christa proclaimed, bowing her head as the Judge softly nodded at her the way he had at Chara.

"Your first piece of evidence?" He inquired, turning to Chara as she held up a notepad and brought it over to Gaster.

"Will the witness please read the top?"

"...A Comprehensive List of Pros and Cons Analyzing The Viability of My Project."

"Your project being what you intended to do with the children you called Subjects S and P, aka Sans and Papyrus?"

"Yes."

"How many...say... **cons**  did you think up?"

"...fifteen." Gaster said, aware that everyone in the audience was staring at him, a deep, deep blush coming to his features as he nervously tugged at his deep grey sweater. "One per page, all heavily detailing why the project was a terrible idea."

"Such as?"

"...there being no guarantee that the subjects would be able to break the Barrier, that even if they did, they'd not be able to defeat a human determined enough to harm them, that Asgore, Alphys and Toriel would despise me forever if they found out what I was doing, that I was employing the same sort of "ends justify the means" tactics that the humans used to justify their imprisonment of monsterkind, that Asgore might gain enough human souls to break the barrier and thus making the project pointless, that I might make the subjects so strong they'd kill me-"

"I think we get the gist of it!" Christa moaned, sinking into her chair and shaking her frizzy hair about, making it bounce around as Frisk gave her a gentle pat on the back, and Chara smirked.

"No further questions regarding this piece of evidence." She said, putting it down as Christa picked up the list, and then turned to the very last page.

"...Gaster, read out the only page left. The Pros." She intoned, as Gaster cleared his throat.

 _"Asgore will never have to kill anyone again."_  he said in a faint whisper of a voice, covering his face with one hand.

"Well. I can see why the pros had it." Christa remarked with a sigh. "You see, your honor? Even then, all he could think about was his best friend, and how he didn't want Asgore to be shouldered with murder on his soul."

"Well then. Shall we begin with our first witness? Papyrus?" The Judge said kindly as Christa approached him, pacing slightly in front of him.

"So, Papyrus, what can you tell me about Gaster?"

"I think he's very sad." Papyrus admitted. "He had told me about how he lost his family, and I think he never stopped blaming himself for that. I think he always feels that he needs to do harsh things because he wants to make up for the time he failed, and he wants to stop failing the people he cares about." The tall skeleton confessed. "He's not bad, really! He saved my brother's life when he accidentally blew his head open, and he taught us to cook and stuff like that!"

"So you think he's kind?"

"Yes. Because I am." Papyrus said with a big smile. "Everything my brother and I are, we got from him. So that must mean kindness came from him too. He just..." Papyrus sighed sadly. "Hid it away because he thinks if he's "strong", he'll help the people he loves. That's why he can be mean. He thinks he's being "strong". But I know he really cares about us, its just hard for him to admit that, because he thinks if he does admit it, he's not being strong."

Christa nodded as Chara rose up. "May I ask the witness then, a little something? Is that why he screwed those HANDPLATES into you?"

Papyrus flinched. He slowly took off the gloves he had, the big, fuzzy, reddish/orange gloves...and set them down on the witness box edge, showing off the metal handplate that read "1-P" on his slender skeletal hand. That's why he...screwed the handplates into us. Because he felt he had to be cold to be strong."

"And how else did he hurt you?" Chara inquired, now rising up and approaching Papyrus, looking a little intrigued. "Did he not..." She rushed back to her table, then got the clipboard, reading off of it. "Try to force you to kill a monster or he'd hurt your brother with Blue Magic? Blue magic he also used to beat you around?"

"...yes." Papyrus sheepishly murmured.

"Did he not crack your skull several times over JUST to force Sans to heal you, in the name of finding out how good Sans was at it?"

"Y-Yes..." Papyrus squeaked out.

"And all! ALL in the name of a so-called "greater good"." Chara remarked aloud, spreading her arms wide. "SO much cruelty, all in the name of the "GREATER GOOD". Isn't that the rallying cry of all monsters through history? Oh, we have to do this, it's in the name of the "greater good", we have to think about our people, who CARES what happens to others? We've got to save our country, and damn it, who cares if we lose our soul to do it? Who CARES if I'm drilling holes in little kids? Who CARES if I'm funneling a laser into their eye sockets? Who gives a SHIT about  **CUTTING INTO A CHILD WITH A ROTATING SAW** , as long as I'm working for the  _greater...good?!_ "

Papyrus nervously quivered and shook, his eye sockets bulging, and he covered his face in his hands, Chara smirking over at Christa, as Frisk turned to Gaster, who was looking at Papyrus, his facial expression a blend of horror and regret before he looked down, slowly, at the table in front of him, and closed his eyes, his features looking now like someone who had died inside. Not much...but enough. Enough.

"No more questions for this witness." Chara remarked, the Judge gently looking down at Papyrus, and quietly nodding.

"You can leave the stand, my child." He offered, Papyrus sniffling a bit as he rose up, Christa looking over her notepad, taking in a deep breath before rising up anew.

"The Defense calls Garamond the Skeleton to the stand."

Gaster immediately shot up, eye sockets bulging, mouth agape as Christa turned to him, and whispered "The judge, the Heavenly Host need to understand what made you what you are. He's going to talk about the war. And how he died. Can you handle it?"

Gaster took in a deep, long breath. He cringed. "I..."

But he knew he couldn't lie.

"I don't know." he finally muttered out. "I  _don't_."

"...it'll have to do." Christa said softly, quietly, as she put a hand on his shoulder and he slightly flinched. "Hey. Don't worry. I am not going to give up on you."

"I know you won't. I know that much." Gaster muttered, quietly sighing as he shook his head. The longer the trial went on, the more he was coming face to face with what he knew, deep down, to be the ugly, hateful truth he didn't want to speak of.

That he didn't believe he deserved mercy either. And he hated himself for wishing what Papyrus said was true. That despite everything Gaster had done...

That Gaster had really  _cared_  about him.


	4. The Verdict Is...

Garamond was truly "big-boned" in every sense of the word. He wore large shoulder pads atop his thick, skeletal frame, a huge breastplate over his chest, which was puffed out and proud, his cape flowing down his back as he rested his immense, gauntlet-wearing hands upon the podium before him, and stood tall and resolute at the witness stand. The skeletal monster looked squarely at Gaster, who was quietly shivering, Frisk gently passing him a cup of tea which he nervously took in one holey hand, taking a small sip.   
  
"Cookies?" The little human added as they lifted up a small plate of chocolate chip cookies to match. "Ms. Toriel passed them to me. She's waiting outside in the hall with Papyrus and Asgore and Alphys and...and everyone else. They're waiting to be called in as character witnesses. We're doing everything we can."   
  
"...cookies and tea." Gaster spoke softly, looking over the small chocolate chip cookie in his hand, turning it over slightly. "...cookies and tea. Mothering really does come naturally to her, doesn't it?"  
  
"Cookies and counseling are her specialty." Frisk remarked with a small smile, and Gaster was surprised to find himself smiling back.  
  
"What do you see when you look at me?" He wanted to know. "I know what Christa sees. I can imagine what Sans sees. What do you see?"  
  
"I see someone very, very sad." Frisk offered with a quiet look of contempation on his Asian-American face, the little brown haired child watching as Gaster slowly munched on the cookie in his hand with tiny little deliberate bites. "I see a very sad man who's had a very sad life and needs a hug. I'd let Paps in to do it, but he's saving a "Super Duper Papyrus Hug" for your acquittal."  
  
"Of course he'd name the hug." Gaster remarked with a small, chuckling sigh before he turned to look back at Garamond, as Chara stood up, smirking slightly, and approached the witness stand, slightly pacing back and forth.  
  
"Garamond, do tell us. What was it you remember whilst on the front lines of the Monster-Human War? Do you even remember how it started?"  
  
"Yes. All of monsterkind does." Garamond intoned in a very deep, rich voice, one of culture and dignity as Chara smirked a bit and turned to Frisk.   
  
"I believe the Defense AND Prosecution have some shared pieces of evidence, this being "Exhibit D"?" She inquired of him, raising an eyebrow up.   
  
Frisk nodded softly and approached, bringing up a plaque from the large box of "Evidence" on Christa's table, swiftly crossing the floor as the Judge steepled his fingers, and the host within the courtroom softly murmured and whispered amongst each other. Frisk handed the plaque to Chara, who looked it over, holding it up. "So...this history plaque. On this...is a an illustration of a strange creature." Chara announced, handing the picture to Garamond. "What do you think of it?"  
  
"...I find it rather beautiful, in a terrifying way. Like a thunderstorm." Garamond reasoned, as Gaster looked at the plaque as it was handed back to Chara, then brought over to the defense table as Chara put it down. Gaster shivered a little, seeinig the big, sunken eyes...the hole-filled hands, the gigantic heart emblazoned in the chest. Lines were rising up from the top and bottom of this creature's eyes, stretching over the face...deep, sunken, utterly black eyes with white pupils, clawed hands, taloned feet, impossibly strong and huge...  
  
It was...an  _unsettling_  drawing.  
  
"That history plaque, that's an artist's drawing. About as old as the barrier itself, made around the time of the war, correct?" Chara inquired.  
  
"Correct." Garamond remarked.  
  
"What, exactly, does it detail?"  
  
"...a monster that has defeated humans...and taken their souls. The power to take their Souls is what humans feared."  
  
"Did it happen?"  
  
"Yes. Not...much, but...enough. King Asgore's father, in fact, took several. He almost got 7." Garamond confessed on the stand. "It had arisen out of continuously rising tensions in the kingdom. Every day was beginning to feel like the calm before the storm, for whispers and murmurs were growing about monsters who had presumably stolen human souls after several houses had been burnt down. The leader of the humans, Tobias, he demanded Asgore's father address this, he insisted that the Pyrope family no longer be allowed to live within city limits because they were too dangerous to humans. King Maecoal didn't like that."  
  
Gaster flinched. He knew what was coming next. His father had died tragically of a bone disease that had hit him hard, making him waste away, and his mother had evidently contracted the same disease. She had been getting thinner and skinnier yet even so she'd stood by King Maecoal at the meeting of human and monster, out in the town square, as platoons of guards stood on either side of the two rulers. He remembered the searing heat of the sun, the clanking and clanging of armor on everyone's frame. He could see sweat slowly dribbling down the cheeks and foreheads of various human guards, all looking at the horned head of King Maecoal as he'd angrily yelled at the young boy king, at Tobias, who had looked over King Maecoal's shoulder...and squarely at the young Toriel as she stood alongside Asgore and Gaster, who clung tightly to his mother.  
  
"...Toriel, would you, pray kindly, inform your father-in-law that-" Tobias had begun to say, his tone not that of a king, but more...pleading, as if asking something very personal and embarrassing. But King Maecoal had spoke angrily.  
  
"HOW do you know of her so well that thou can speak to her thusly?!"   
  
"Mistress Toriel happened to be a very good acquaintance of mine before she decided to take your son to be her husband!"   
  
"You were making passes at her?"   
  
Maecoal had a terrible, awful, temper. His fist was raised. Tobias reeled back, and another guard shot forward, spear held up. "Sir, stand back, we'll-"  
  
Maecoal hit the young guard so hard in the face, Gaster would never, ever forget it. He would never forget the weight and power and agonizing CRUTCHA-KRAK sound that echoed through the air, as the man's helmeted head spun to the side forcibly, his body hitting the ground with such force, and everyone stared as Maecoal angrily glowered at Tobias...then at the faintly flickering orange soul wafting up from the body. It was only there for a few moments, like a candle about to be snuffed out in the wind, but...Maecoal ensnared it with one hand, the other pointing furiously at Tobias.  
  
"This meeting is over, we've more right than you to this land, we were here first!"   
  
"No you weren't, our family owned the lands east of the mountain for generations!"  
  
"You did not!"  
  
Yelling. Shouting. Tobias was getting mad as well, and then the guards decided to surge forward, trying to protect their kings. Arial grabbed Gaster, shielding him, trying to tug him away as the clangs of swords and spears began ringing through the air, and he could see ANOTHER soul being grabbed by Maecoal, as Asgore took hold of Toriel and ran. Gaster heard the screaming of the dying and the doomed, he heard his mother calling out, seeing her raising her spear.  
  
And he realized he was shuddering as everyone in the courtroom turned to look at him.  
  
"How many died that day?" Chara inquired of Garamond.  
  
"81. There were 18 humans that died, and 63 monsters. And I saw that play out upon the field of battle...it seemed that every one human it seemed three or four monsters would die." Garamond intoned quietly, looking down at his lap. "Maecoal died by a spare arrow, it cut through his neck after the Souls began rebelling. The problem is that if you don't have 7 souls, complete control, it's...quite difficult to maintain your form and your power." The skeletal monster confessed.   
  
"The court is aware of this." The Judge said calmly. "After all, "Flowey" had six human souls. Six souls of "mere" children, and even with all his power, he couldn't manage to hold onto it. They were able to rebel against him and reduce him to a wilted, helpless thing."  
  
"THAT I know from personal experience." Christa remarked with a smirk. "He thought himself so powerful. It never once crossed his mind that the Souls might rebel. Then again, I've learned monsters like to gloss over that. The same way they like to gloss over how the war started, or how dangerous they can become when they claim human souls." She admitted with a quiet sigh. "Everyone wants to believe they're good, they never want to consider the mistakes they've made. It's too painful."    
  
"Mr. Garamond, your dear brother Gaster was there at the front lines, and saw the inciting incident that led to the war between monsters and humans. But he was a civlian, wasn't he? He didn't have fighting abilities. Why did he come?"  
  
"Well, everyone was there." Garamond reasoned. "Before our mother died, she insisted we stay together and with the army because it wouldn't be safe to be in the city. It was best for all of us to stay together. Monsters HAD to stick together."  
  
"So the idea of getting to safety never entered your mind?"  
  
"We thought we could win." Garamond remarked, looking slightly stubbornly at Chara's rather smug face. "After all, we had magic. Every monster can do magic. We were doing well at first! It took an entire year before they finally defeated us, but for the first three months we did well. We had high hopes, even though we were somewhat suffering from continuous, gradual attack. We didn't realize we were being worn down. I certainly didn't realize it until I was facing that mage, and before I knew it, his sword was halfway through my cheek."   
  
"Shortsightedness seems to run in the family." Chara chuckled.  
  
"Your HONOR!" Christa called out.  
  
"Withdrawn. I have a new witness to call. Gaster...would you be so kind as to replace your brother on the witness stand?"   
  
Gaster took another little cookie, popping it into his mouth and swallowing it in a single gulp before he approached the stand, Garamond giving him a firm smile.   
  
"Do not let her ruffle you. You're stronger than you think you are." Garamond insisted as Gaster watched his elder, taller, resolute brother head out the door, and he took his place at the podium, Christa watching with Frisk as Chara stood right in front of the glasses-wearing, labcoat-having scientist.  
  
"Speaking of shortsightedness, what in HEAVEN'S name did you think would happen when Asgore learned you'd been experimenting on children? Did you really think he would be alright with this? After what he'd endured with his own two children, myself included? Tell me, Dr. Gaster. Why did you not stop and think 'If my best friend finds out, he will never forgive me, maybe I should stop"?"  
  
"I knew he wouldn't forgive me." Gaster said, trying to keep his voice level, reaching into his labcoat, getting out a cigarette, the need to burn, to take ash into his lack of lungs beginning to swell up in his frame as he began to feel an ugly tingling rising at the back of his neck. "I would have to...do what I had to quickly and accept the punishment."  
  
"Meaning?"  
  
Gaster took a long drag on the cigarette, his hand shaking slightly.  "I...had...sort of p-planned it out. I'd...wait until the two were together, and...I'd inject Sans and Papyrus as they slept with a...chemical solution. It would end their lives swiftly and...and painlessly. I'd...have dreams about it. Constantly. Almost every night. Increasingly, as the weeks went on, ever since Sans had spoken to me about how cowardly he thought I was. How...how I was wasting my choices and my chances." Gaster murmured, his voice beginning to break. "I'd dream about...going into their cells."  
  
His body was shaking now.   
  
"I'd turn off the grid shield keeping them in, I'd-I'd approach their beds, the needle in my hand. I'd-I'd administer it to the-the back of their necks, I'd-I'd start with Sans first, and then Papyrus. I'd...I'd dream of him awakening, of seeing his face, and staring at me, staring as the light faded, staring as his body then turned still and to dust and-and I'd be holding it my hands all over again and- _and_ -" Gaster's voice had grown increasingly higher in pitch, his body shaking and quivering as he finally held his head in his hands, and then took a long, deep, rattling breath.  
  
"...the dreams...stopped. The dreams stopped after I had begun experiments with space and time. Trying to open portals, and-and this monstrous, blobby eldritch THING came out. And suddenly, I was there, I was on the battlefield, and for once, for ONCE, I was fighting, and I wasn't being a coward, and this time I wasn't going to fail my family, THIS time I wasn't going to just curl into a ball and cry, THIS time I wasn't going to let them die right in front of me and let my fear stick me to the ground!" He yelled out, as the felt the hot, burning stinging tears drizzling down his cheek.  
  
Chara watched quietly, then stepped back, looking at Christa. "I've no further questions. You?"  
  
Christa took a long, deep breath, and the frizzy, brown-haired girl adjusted her glasses. Then she spoke.  
  
"This blobby, eldritch thing. Do you remember what happened next, after you fought it?"  
  
"It told me that "You have such an interest in the future" but the future had little in me. That everything I'd made, created, none if it needed me, and nobody will remember me when I'm gone. And so I'd have to ask myself...if it was...if it was worth it." Gaster managed to murmur out, as he looked up, staring right into Christa's eyes, trying to take in deep, harsh breaths, his voice ragged and cracked.   
  
"What happened?"  
  
"I later asked Papyrus to heal me. He...he told me I had made so, so many awful decisions. But I could be better than I was. I told him I didn't think I could, and even if I tried...I asked him, "When you look Forward, can you see me"?"   
  
"Looking forward, that means?"  
  
"Sans and Papyrus had, at the lab, a gift. They could see into the future, down the timeline. But no matter what they saw, there seemed to be few definite commonalities. One thing they WERE sure of was...they didn't see me." Gaster managed to whisper out.   
  
"So what did that tell you?"  
  
"...it was all...pointless. And  **I**  was pointless." Gaster muttered. "I had been...studying the CORE and the data from the timelines. I had seen my presence didn't pop up, but I believed the data the studies gave me had a minor bug. What Papyrus told me made me realize how... **useless** I was. How useless everything I'd done had been. When Alphys went to speak to me that day I...fell in, I couldn't stop thinking about how...easy it would be. To just end it all." He whispered, his pupils in his dark sockets becoming tiny little pinpricks. "To take that solution I'd thought of using on them, on the brothers, on...on my sons, and-and use it on myself. All those times I'd been so close to death, and I'd never truly thought of what it would be like to die. Now I couldn't stop thinking about it. About not existing anymore. And..."  
  
His voice trailed off. His body was quivering and shaking. And then, his voice turned dead, and stony, and solemn.   
  
"I don't deserve to be here. I don't deserve those cookies. I don't deserve that hug from Papyrus. I don't deserve a lawyer like you, Christa, who has to suffer every time she looks at me, to see a torturing, pathetic excuse of a man wearing her friend's face. I don't deserve a nice child like you, Frisk, showing me mercy. I don't even deserve disdain from Sans. No. No, that implies I'm worth thinking about, and I'm not. I'm not. I am..."  
  
He hung his head.  
  
"I am  _nothing_."  
  
Absolute silence seemed to reign within the courtroom, the doors in the back opening very, very slowly, as, one after the other, Toriel, Asgore, Papyrus and Sans entered the room, Garamond, Arial, Gaster's skeletal family and Alphys bringing up the rear, looking from Gaster to Christa, then from Frisk to Chara, then, at last, at the Judge.  
  
"Sir...is it time?"  
  
"Yes." The Judge said, as he turned to Chara, who gave a calm, firm bow as even MORE people began to enter the room, and all stood up, tall, heads held high, Gaster seeing the children of the Underground, seeing dear old Gothic. He could see the two kings, standing by each other, even see Hazel, the boy who would have been his brother, looking deep into his eyes. All of them stared right at him, then, at last...  
  
All smiled.  
  
"You chose...wisely." The Judge said. With that, he rose up, bowing, as everyone else nodded all at once, and Gaster felt absolute confusion settling over him.   
  
"Wh...what do you mean?" He inquired, staring in confusion, looking around, mouth slightly agape. "What's going on?"  
  
"The thing is, Gaster...at the end of the day, the person who really needed to forgive you wasn't Sans or Papyrus or Asgore or Toriel or even God. You were the one who needed to forgive himself."  Frisk admitted.  "You needed to look back at everything you've done, everything that happened to you."  
  
"You had to confront the worst you did. You had to look back at all the awful things you inflicted on Sans and Papyrus, and had to reckon with yourself. We had to make sure you really, truly understood what you did. We needed an honest, genuine reaction, and we wouldn't have gotten that from you, gotten you to reach this point if we hadn't been through EVERYTHING in your life. What made you what you were today, the first time you saw violence and how it shaped you, how your loss and pain dug deep into your Soul and gave you cracks you felt you couldn't heal." Chara added with a chuckle. "You had to be put through, in essence, Hell."  
  
"If we had just asked you outright whether you felt you deserved forgiveness and a second chance, you wouldn't have truly been honest with yourself. Not informed honesty, anyway. You had to really look at everything you'd done and own up to it, and then you had to look at yourself and see what you were. You think you don't deserve mercy? Well, you made bad mistakes. Awful ones. TERRIBLE ones. But that doesn't mean you can't be forgiven and given a second chance. The biggest road block isn't anything we've set up, it's what YOU'VE said up, and now...now it's time for you to recognize it." Christa admitted.  
  
**"ya think ya can't start over? ya think you can't endure all the guilt and shame? everyone lookin' at you in disgust over your past? well...tough. get over it. cuz guess what? everyone here's done things we ain't proud of, myself included. i'm just as much of a dirty coward as you are."** Sans admitted with a shrug. **"guess i kinda got that from you. but so often, i didn't acknowledge that. didn't improve. i just coasted by on doin' nothing. and it took me a while to realize that i was falling into the same rut you were. i had choices every day. and i was making bad ones because i thought they were the only choices."**  
  
"You are not the only one who's been hurt here. But feeling sorry for yourself, feeling you're pathetic and weak and helpless isn't going to do anything. You think you don't deserve mercy? Well...Gaster...that's the whole POINT!" Papyrus proclaimed. "MERCY IS FOR THOSE WHO DON'T DESERVE IT. Every single saint was once a sinner. Everyone needs some mercy and sympathy now and then, because everyone makes mistakes. Even I, the great Papyrus, have made bad choices. And not just with my cooking!"  He added nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was often blind to how Sans was truly feeling, and I just ASSUMED he was alright too often. And it kept hurting him, and building up, and making him so cynical and nihilistic. He was barely holding on, he had almost no hope except for the hope he had in me. I've failed too. But that's alright. Because the thing is...it is never, ever too late to change. Not if you really want to."  
  
Gaster stared at all of them, his face paler than normal, his body slightly shaking as he covered his face with one arm, and his voice slightly quivered. "...no matter what I can say now, I know, Papyrus. I know NOTHING good I could ever do would be enough to make me deserve someone as kind as you." He whispered. "To...to have you saying that...to have ALL of you saying that..."  
  
"You're going to get another chance." The Judge said, as the CLANG of the gavel rang through the air, and everything began to turn bright white, and to fade into an abyss of light and warmth around Gaster, leaving only Christa remaining, a soft portal twirling and swirling behind her, a faint afterimage glistening just beyond the horizon. Gaster could faintly see himself standing there, Papyrus tied down to a steely table, with brown straps around his neck, his torso, his legs...  
  
The doctor knew that moment in time well. The moment he had decided to drill the plates into them...  
  
"This is it." Christa said softly, jabbing a thumb back at the afterimage off in the distance. "One of the easiest chances for the timelines to diverge. I hope this time, you make a good choice." She said, Gaster walking towards her, looking down at her as she smiled warmly up at him, and he felt over his face, and he gasped.  
  
For the first time in a long time, he could feel...feel his glasses were gone. Feel the lines that ran across his face, and...feel how much...softer he seemed to be.  
  
For the first time, he now realized, he now felt exactly how he looked to Christa. For the first time, he really had become the great friend she had known.  
  
"You won't remember me. But you don't need me anymore, Gaster. You've got  you." She said with a smile. "You always had it in you to be better. You just had to remind yourself of it. We just had to give you a little nudge in the right direction." Christa confessed as she adjusted her glasses, and Gaster felt his smile fade slightly.  
  
"But..." He struggled to find the answer. "I...I don't want to forget you." He managed to say. "I've never really had human friends. You're probably the closest thing I've ever had to one."  
  
"I hear that a lot, Gaster." Christa said, Gaster blinking in confusion, now seeing the tears welling in her eyes. "I've done this many times, Gaster. There's a lot of you out there. So many of you that needed help. And I've tried, again and again, to be that help. The one I knew, the one I loved...he's gone on. But I can't. There's too many of you that needs help. I can't ever go back home, Gaster. My family's gone on too. So I help Gasters like you."  
  
"...how many times?" He whispered out.  
  
"I've lost count." She said, sniffling a bit, wiping her nose on her arm and smiling. "It's okay. I...I'll keep moving forward. I'll keep persevering. Because when I'm helping my friends, I feel I'm at home. That's enough for me."  
  
Gaster felt a tear come to his eye, and he wiped it away, slightly looking to the side as Christa smiled, and took his hand. Human hands could be so...WARM. So soft...yet so firm. She led him towards the faint horizon, towards the image of himself, at the table. Leading him back...back to that moment.  
  
"It's not such a bad thing, Gaster. There's so much  **good**  out here. It's like...lanterns lighting up the forest path. And it makes the leaves colors pop and dance, and it's like a beautiful harvest feast. Every little possibility of time, every world, it's like a lantern. And sometimes they need people to shut the door that someone left open, or they need some more oil, or just to be moved a bit so that their light shines more clearly. And sometimes the light's even gone out, and you need to put it back on. It's not so bad, tending to the path. It all looks so  _beautiful_ , if you do it just right."  
  
"You truly are old for one so young." Gaster whispered. "...to have to do this for so long. So often."  
  
"It's hard. But everything worth doing is hard." Christa said with a final little sad laugh. "Your lantern's been lit again, Wing Ding Gaster. Now go out there...and make sure it stays lit."  
  
With that, she gave him a big, almost bone-crushing hug. Gaster silently held her there, Christa's soft sniffling echoing through the near-infinite whiteness around her until, at last...she stepped back...  
  
And was gone, Gaster now in that room, alone, with Papyrus.   
  
"Can you move?" Gaster quietly asked the tied-down Papyrus, who was looking up at him fearfully, his chest aglow with soft blue magic.   
  
"N-No. It...it's hard to breathe." Young Papyrus whispered, his voice slightly hoarse. "I...I'm scared."  
  
A shudder rippled through Gaster's body. He looked at the drill in his hands. And then...  
  
"...I want you to understand something." Gaster spoke quietly, somberly, hanging his head. "...it is  **dangerous**  out there. The Underground where we live in is dangerous, and the Surface even more so. There are monsters who might try and hurt you, and humans who may try and kill you.  _I will not allow that to happen_." He intoned, tossing the drill onto the table, going over towards a large cupboard, getting out large brown cloth stripes, and walking back to Papyrus, who stared, wide-eyed, at the scientist.   
  
Gaster held the brown cloth up, and began to wrap it squarely and tightly around Papyrus's hand, sealing it firmly shut onto the top of the little skeleton's frame. "Understand this. You are my...my son. I will do WHATEVER I have to if it means taking care of you, and keeping you safe. I will do what I must to make sure you are safe, and happy, and  **alive**. If you grow up to  hate me for what the measures I'll take to ensure you grow up strong...strong enough to endure whatever the Surface or the Future holds, then so be it. But understand this. I...will do just about ANYTHING...to make sure you stay alive.  _ **That**_...is how much I love you."   
  
With that, he harshly tied off the cloth around Papyrus's hand, and then began to undo the straps. "Do you understand, Subj-I mean..." A hesitancy, and then...   
  
"Do you understand...Papyrus?"   
  
"Is that my name?"  
  
"Yes. It is your name now."  
  
A nod, as Papyrus rose up, and he held his arms out wide. "AH. No hugging!" Gaster said quickly, Papyrus giving a loud laugh, embracing Gaster anyway, making the scientist deeply blush, a blush that filled his cheeks as Papyrus rubbed his head up against his "daddy's" chest. "Q-Quit it!"  
  
"You know you want iiiiit!" Papyrus insisted.  
  
"C-Cut it out!"  
  
"Nooo, you need a Papyrus Hug." Papyrus insisted, Gaster letting out a long, deep sigh. He had no idea if he'd ever get used to it, but then he saw Subject 1-S...no, Sans now. Yes. Sans was a nice, good, skeleton name. Sans was standing in the doorway, and he was staring at Gaster, his eyes wide.  
  
**"...you're glowing."** He murmured, Gaster feeling a shuddering shock rising up in his body, Papyrus stepping back, letting go of the doctor as Sans stared into Gaster's face. **"your eyes. your eyes are glowing like...like a fire."**  
  
Gaster looked across the room at the mirror on the wall over the toolbox, seeing himself. Seeing his eyes, all lit up, like his head was a big lantern that had just been relit.  He reached up to his cheek, his body quaking. Why was he crying? Why did he feel so happy, and yet...feeling as though he had lost someone? Someone of infinite value? What was this strange sensation of joy and regret that was slowly filling him like a rising fire?  
  
"...why am I... _crying_..." He whispered. "I don't... _I don't understand_..."   
  
From far, far away, Christa Solomon Lewis watched, hands in her pockets, head bowed as she let her own tears fall. Someone had to tend to these lanterns. She couldn't linger long. There were other Gasters to try and save.   
  
"Goodbye, G." She whispered as she turned and walked away, as the handplates that would be placed on Sans and Papyrus would turn to "Mercyplates", as a single good choice would have a ripple effect that spread out, wide and far, across the timestream of this Gaster's existence. She turned and walked away, trying to take comfort in the fact that now, at last, he'd be happy.  
  
And that was good enough for her. "Course, it never really is goodbye, is it? Just...see you... _soon_..." she whispered, her voice breaking on the last word.   
  
There were many other lanterns to tend to, after all. The woods were lonely, dark and deep, but she had promises to keep...and miles to go before she'd sleep.


End file.
